Off Course
by B.A. Tyler
Summary: When Hawkeye and B.J. get lost on their way back from the 8063rd, Radar and Klinger set out to try to find them. Updated with Chapter 4 - now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Off Course ****  
**

"Did you see how they were riveted by my demonstration, Beej? They were hanging on my every word!"

B.J. glanced over at Hawkeye as he maneuvered the jeep around a corner. "Riveted," he repeated, smirking.

"They loved me!"

B.J. laughed. "Dr. Humility… paging Dr. Humility."

Hawkeye shrugged and grinned immodestly. "Hey, I just call it like I see it. You have to admit they were fascinated."

"By the operation, Hawk. Not so much by you, I don't think."

"My talented fingers and I are a set." Suddenly he looked around, a little bewildered, as simultaneously B.J. slowed the jeep. "OK, I give up, Beej. Where are we? This doesn't look the least bit familiar."

"Uh, well… yeah. I thought we'd go back to camp a different way, and that might not have been the best idea."

Hawk looked at him with wide eyes. "Are you saying we're lost?"

B.J. shrugged. "Lost. Taking the long way home. Enjoying the scenery. It's just semantics, Hawk."

"You nut!" Hawkeye gestured to the side of the road. "Pull over! Don't just keep on driving further into lost territory. Let's see if we can get our bearings."

B.J. pulled over as ordered and stopped the jeep. They both sat there, looking around—up ahead, to the sides, behind them—but neither of them recognized this area at all. It was most definitely a different route than the one they'd traveled yesterday, when they'd gone to the 8063rd. Hawkeye hit B.J. on the arm. "Way to go, Mr. Lousy Sense of Direction. We could be miles off track. Turn around and head back to the 8063rd, and let's start all over again."

"Um… well…"

"You don't know how to get back there, either?" Hawkeye's voice had gone up in pitch and in volume.

"Well, I can give it a shot," B.J. said, though he didn't sound very reassuring.

Hawkeye glared at him. "Yes," he said. "Do that."

B.J. put the jeep in gear, did a hurried three-point turn, and got moving in the opposite direction.

What neither one of them knew was that they were now heading deeper into enemy territory.

* * *

"Colonel?"

"Yes, Radar."

"Colonel, I just got off the phone with the 8063rd. Hawkeye and B.J. started back four hours ago. They shoulda been here by now. They gotta be lost or having jeep trouble or something."

Potter's mouth quirked down, concern clouded his features. "Sure seems like it, huh?"

"Sir, your permission for me and Klinger to go out looking for them? We'll be real careful, sir."

Potter thought it over for a moment, then nodded. "All right, Radar. See if you and Klinger can spot them, but if not, you come on back here and we'll get a chopper up in the air to look for them. Don't go taking any unnecessary risks."

"No, sir. Don't worry, sir."

Radar scurried out of Potter's office before he could change his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

"Beej, I'm not liking this." Hawkeye's previous good mood had been overtaken by worry, and now by something close to fear. His eyes were constantly on the move, darting around, looking for trouble… almost expecting it.

"This still doesn't look familiar to you?" B.J. asked.

"Not in the slightest. I hate to say it, but I think we're _way_ off track."

"Shit," B.J. mumbled, clearly angry with himself for getting them into this. "Sorry, Hawk… really I am. You know I didn't mean to get us lost like this—"

Hawkeye put a hand on B.J.'s arm. "I know, Beej."

B.J. nodded, but Hawkeye got the impression he was close to tears. B.J. shook his head a little, as if to regain his composure, and said, "I'm pulling over. You hungry? Thank God we have those sandwiches."

Actually, thank the nurses at the 8063rd. They had kindly packed a couple of sandwiches in appreciation of the doctors' visit and in case they got hungry before they got back to the 4077th. Very prescient indeed.

B.J. pulled the jeep over and Hawkeye reached into the back seat for the paper bag that contained the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. "Here you go, Beej," he said, handing one over. Then he shot B.J. an ominous look. "You think it would be wise to eat only half now, and save half for later… in case we, you know, end up being out here for a long time?" Maybe a pessimistic thought, but a practical one.

"Yeah," B.J. said, taking only half of his sandwich. "Good idea."

They chewed in silence for a while, pensive and anxious. It was unusual for them to not have anything to say to each other. It was just such a tense situation, and Hawkeye didn't have any idea what to do next. His mind was churning, trying to find a solution. Give him a medical emergency, and he knew exactly what to do. But get him lost in a foreign land, and he wasn't quite as surefooted.

"This sandwich is making me thirsty," B.J. said, breaking the silence. "We do still have water, I hope?"

Hawkeye nodded. "Canteen's in the back seat. Hold on, lemme get it."

He was reaching into the back seat, feeling around for their canteen of water, when it happened.

A gunshot rang out and a bullet tore past the jeep. B.J. and Hawkeye immediately ducked down, trying to flatten themselves onto their seats.

"The hell?" B.J. asked as another bullet flew just over their heads.

"Sniper," Hawkeye said. They were both breathing hard, huddling low, as far down as they could possibly get.

"You think I should try to drive us outta here?"

Hawkeye shook his head. "Too dangerous. He'd hit you. He's close by."

"Well we're sitting ducks here," B.J. replied, sounding more angry than scared. "You stay low, Hawk. I'm gonna give it a shot." And he pulled himself up, just far enough that he could put the jeep in gear and drive them out of the line of fire.

"B.J., no!" Hawkeye said, but an instant later, another gunshot rang out, and Hawkeye actually heard it hit paydirt. B.J. screamed in agony, and Hawkeye yanked him down low again, so that no further damage could be done. "Shit, shit, shit! Where are you hit? B.J.?"

Moaning, groaning, another scream—this time in frustration—and then B.J. spit out, "My shoulder. He got my shoulder."

Hawkeye ripped open B.J.'s shirt where the blood was, at the right shoulder, and took a look at the wound. "You're losing blood, Beej, but I think you'll be OK. I mean, assuming we can get back to camp. I mean, _of course_ you're going to be OK." He forced himself to stop rambling; he sounded panicked even to his own ears. Luckily, the wound wasn't as bad as it could've been. He wasn't going to lose B.J. He just needed to stop the bleeding. He had his medical bag with him, of course—in the back seat. But first he needed to get them the hell away from the sniper and the possibility of any further injury.

The gunshots had stopped abruptly once B.J. had been hit. It was as if the sniper had thought, _Bingo! That's my quota for the day! _and then knocked off work.

Hawkeye could only hope that was the case.

"Beej, you hangin' in?" he whispered.

B.J. nodded, though with something of a whimper. "Hurts like hell. But yeah, I'm hanging in."

"Keep pressure on that," Hawkeye advised, but of course B.J. already was. Even so, his shirt was becoming soaked with blood. "I don't hear any more gunshots. I think maybe he's gone…?"

"Wishful thinking," B.J. said. "He's armed and we're not. Why would he go?"

Hawkeye remembered something then. Col. Potter always made them take their sidearms when they left camp. "Actually, we do have a gun. It's in the back seat, isn't it?"

B.J. finally tore his focus from his injured shoulder and looked at Hawkeye's face. "Hey, yeah! Good thinking, Hawk."

Hawkeye managed to reach into the back seat, clutching first the canteen of water, which he handed to B.J., and then on a second grab, their gun. He didn't want to fire it—he hated guns—but maybe just one bullet shot into the air… maybe that would be enough. All he wanted to do was get them out of here so he could tend to B.J.'s shoulder.

"Just one shot, Beej," he said as he cocked the gun. "Gonna fire into the air, scare this guy off. And then we're gonna swap places so I can drive us the hell out of here. OK?"

B.J. was grimacing in pain, but he nodded. "Yeah. Good plan."

Hawkeye raised the gun above his head and fired once. There was no return fire, only silence, as they sat there and waited out a couple anxious minutes. The sniper must have gone.

"Move over here, Beej," he said, though their switching places in the jeep was difficult. B.J. screamed out in pain as his shoulder got bumped in the process. "Sorry, Beej. Hang in there."

Finally behind the wheel, Hawkeye got the jeep moving fast. He drove a good distance down the road, and then even further to be extra cautious, and when he brought the jeep to a stop, he let out a sigh of relief. He felt for sure they were far away from the sniper who had wounded B.J.

Whether there were _other_ snipers around… well, he didn't want to think about that.

He got out of the jeep and jogged around it, grabbing his medical bag out of the back seat. "I'll get you fixed up in no time. Get that bleeding stopped. You'll be OK," he told B.J., feeling supremely confident, because this was doctoring and that's what he did best.

B.J., still clutching at his wounded shoulder, looked at him with gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you, Hawk."

"Don't mention it," he replied with a wave of his hand and a genuine smile. "Wait'll you get my bill."


	3. Chapter 3

"Just keep driving down this road, Klinger," Radar instructed with an air of authority… as though he outranked Klinger, when of course he didn't.

"Radar," Klinger said, looking doubtful, "are you sure? We were supposed to go to the 8063rd taking the usual route, and see if we could spot the Captains on the way, but this road here? This one's off the beaten path. We don't want to end up getting lost too."

Radar would not be deterred. "It's the right way. I feel it. This is the road we need to take."

"You gonna remember how to get back? How to retrace our steps?"

"Sure. I got a good sense of direction."

As he accelerated, Klinger reached up and plucked the frilly pink hat off his head so it wouldn't get blown away. He tossed it into the back of the jeep and then shot Radar a look. "You better," he said. "I'm gonna take your word on this. But if half of his camp ends up lost in Korea, the Colonel's gonna be spittin' mad."

Radar laughed once, though with little humor. "We won't get lost," he assured his friend.

* * *

"OK," Hawkeye said, taking a step back to admire his handiwork. "How's that feel, Beej? Better?"

"Yeah. Better," B.J. said as he studied his bandaged shoulder. Bullet gone, wound stitched up, bandage neatly in place. He smiled at Hawkeye. "Not bleeding is better than bleeding."

"No truer words have ever been spoken," Hawkeye said, tossing his medical bag back into the jeep. "Now we need to get you and your bad shoulder back home."

"How you gonna do that, Hawk?" B.J. was reclining in the back seat now—it'd been easier for Hawkeye to work on his wound there—and he stretched out a little, apparently starting to relax.

Hawkeye, still standing outside the jeep, paced as he examined their surroundings. "I don't know, actually. You got any thoughts? Which direction should we go?"

"You asking me? I got us into this mess."

Hawkeye sighed, then took his seat behind the wheel. "You know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna flip a coin."

"Army scrip doesn't come in coins," said B.J. from the back seat.

Hawkeye turned to look at him. "Reason number 632 to hate the Army. Can't even flip a damn coin."

He started up the jeep and _mentally_ flipped a coin. He pulled onto the road and began driving due south.

* * *

As Klinger kept driving at a steady 50-mile-an-hour pace, Radar closed his eyes and tried to listen to his psychic instincts. Normally closing his eyes while somebody else drove would make him dizzy if not downright nauseous, but not when he was struggling to hear his inner voices. Not when his sixth sense was kicking in.

Suddenly he flashed back to an earlier time—all the way back to the 4th grade, all the way back to Ottumwa Elementary School. He and his classmates were about to go outside for recess, and the teacher was telling them to line up, like they did every day, so they could walk out in an orderly fashion. Without thinking, acting on what his "feelings" told him, Radar said, "Miss Boyle? We shouldn't go outside. A thunderstorm's comin' in just a couple minutes. Be here in no time. We'll all get wet if we go out."

Miss Boyle, who didn't know about his talent—nobody at the school did—had scoffed. The sky was sunny; the forecast had not called for rain. She sent them outside despite his warning, and sure enough, the storm came up quickly, bringing thunder, lightning, and a drenching rain. After they all ran back inside the school, after everyone tried in vain to get dried off, his classmates started to look at him funny. Some of them actually moved away from him, as if he had some kind of disease that was contagious. And one of them, Richard Samuels, pointed at him and said, "You're a freak, that's what you are. A freak."

Radar fell quiet for the rest of the school day, sitting stoically at his desk as the lessons continued. But after he got home, he ran into his mother's arms and began to sob, his breath hitching, his fists clutching at her dress. "Why am I a freak, Mommy? I don't want to be. I want to be like all the other kids."

The jeep hit a pothole then and bounced violently, yanking Radar back to the present. He kept his eyes closed but gave his head a firm shake, ridding himself of those long-ago thoughts. He had come to terms with his gift by now. He wasn't a freak and he knew it, and it didn't matter what anyone else thought.

And now was no time to be distracted. He took a deep breath and concentrated on the task at hand.

_Find Hawkeye and B.J., _he thought fiercely. _Let's get them home.  
_  
And just as his instincts had told him to choose this particular road that they were traveling on, now they told him: turn left at the road ahead.

His eyes snapped open. "Turn left up there, Klinger," he ordered.

Klinger eyed him briefly before looking back at the road. "I dunno, kid. We're really getting off course, don't you think?"

"This is where they're at. It's not too much further, Klinger. I can feel it."

Klinger eased up on the gas as he approached the left turn in question. "OK, I'm turning. You better be right about this. I don't wanna get taken prisoner in this outfit, it's one of my least comfortable dresses."

Klinger took the turn and then accelerated again. This road was even more torn up than the other one had been, and the jeep bounced around like Radar's rabbits at playtime. Radar put his hand on the dash to steady himself, his eyes peeled, his "feelings" on high alert.

_They're close. They're close._ It was like a mantra.

_And one of them is injured.  
_  
"Faster, Klinger," he said, a sinking feeling in his gut. "I know this road's bad, but please go faster."


	4. Chapter 4

"Ouch!" B.J. groaned from the back seat as his arm took a jolt from the jeep hitting another bump in the road. "Could you slow down, Hawk? This road is shitty."

"It is shitty indeed, but pretty soon the sun will be setting, and we don't want to be out here in the middle of nowhere after dark. Do we? I'd rather not slow down."

"It would help if we knew where we're going."

Hawkeye shrugged. "This nothingness can't go on forever. We have to get somewhere eventually." That was what he kept telling himself, anyway. He cast a glance into the back, to see how B.J. was doing, and he didn't like the paleness of the man's face. It was alarming. "Hey, you feeling all right?"

"I've been better."

_Too much blood loss?_ Hawkeye wondered. Could be. There had been quite a bit. And was B.J.'s breathing suddenly sounding more labored?

Oh God, this wasn't good.

Hawkeye's pulse picked up and he stepped harder on the gas. "Hang in there, Beej."

* * *

Radar was still hearing it over and over: _They're close. They're close._

But was it really his psychic ability, or was it just desperate hope? He wasn't about to admit it to Klinger, but finding lost people or lost animals wasn't quite the same as knowing a storm was approaching or wounded were on the way. His beloved Babette had gone missing once, and he hadn't been able to locate her no matter how much he concentrated; it'd taken Cap'n Pierce nearly sitting on her for her to get found.

His heart was pounding now, because he was starting to doubt himself, starting to think that he and Klinger weren't going to find anything except trouble out here in no-man's land.

_Come on, come on…_

And just as panic was beginning to set in… just as he was considering telling Klinger to turn back… he spotted a jeep up ahead. It was far in the distance but coming toward them fast. Radar squinted, straining to see. Could it be…?

"Hey! Hey!" he yelled, practically standing up in the jeep even as it continued barreling down the uneven road. "That's them! Do you see them? Up there, coming toward us!"

Klinger peered ahead at the approaching vehicle. "Hey, yeah! That's them all right. Good goin', kid! You did it!" He gave Radar a congratulatory smack on the shoulder, then leaned on the horn, _honnnnk, honnnnk, honnnnk!_ "Captains! Captains!" he yelled.

Radar joined him. "Cap'n Pierce! Cap'n Hunnicutt! Up here!"

Hawkeye saw them, finally, and blared his horn right back at them. Radar craned his neck to see where B.J. was, suddenly worried, but then he saw the blond doctor sitting up in the back seat, and he knew the man was at least conscious.

The two jeeps careened toward each other, and came to simultaneous stops when they met.

Radar leaped out of his seat and ran to Hawkeye's jeep. "Sirs? Are you OK?"

Hawkeye beamed at him. "Radar, Klinger, are we happy to see you!" He gestured into the back. "My partner in crime here seems to have been shot."

"Ooooh," Radar said, taking a look at B.J.'s bandaged shoulder and bloody shirt. He covered his mouth with his hand, concerned and horrified.

"I'm all right, Radar," B.J. told him, but he sure didn't look all right, and his voice was weak.

Hawkeye put a hand on Radar's arm to get the corporal's attention. "We need to get him back to the hospital. I assume you have an idea where that is?"

"Oh yes sir. Just follow us." And with that, Radar scurried back to his jeep, jumping in next to Klinger. All business once again. "Back where we came from, Klinger. Do you remember?"

Klinger got the jeep moving, checking over his shoulder to make sure Hawkeye was ready to follow. They exchanged thumbs-up, and Klinger began heading back down the rutted road. "I think I might need you to guide me, Radar," he said with a sheepish look.

And Radar smiled, confident, gratified, elated. "No sweat. I know exactly how to get back."

* * *

"Radar, that was most impressive," Col. Potter said, slapping his company clerk on the back as they stood in the corporal's office. "Those two were _way_ off course. Really managed to discombobulate themselves. I don't know how you did it, but you basically just found a needle in a haystack."

"Oh, it was no problem, sir. I was happy to help." Radar flashed his dimples, feeling about as proud as he'd ever been.

B.J. was resting comfortably in post-op, doing much better now that he had been hooked up to an IV for the past few hours and was under the blissful influence of painkillers.

Hawkeye was finally getting some sleep, after having fussed over his best friend in post-op until he was practically falling over from fatigue.

Klinger was regaling the nurses with tales of his heroic adventure of rescuing the hopelessly lost doctors out of enemy territory.

Everything was right with the world again—or at least with this corner of it—and it was all thanks to Radar.

The Colonel gave him one last pat on the back and a grateful smile, then disappeared into his own office.

Radar let out a sigh and took a seat at his desk, lost in thought. After a moment, he opened his notebook, picked up his nub of a pencil, and began to write.

_Dear Ma,  
Remember I used to ask you why I had to be so different from everyone else? Turns out, some days it's really worth it…_


End file.
